


Temporary truths

by WhiteLie



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Capitol Citizens, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-23
Updated: 2015-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 20:49:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4194420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteLie/pseuds/WhiteLie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a Capitol citizen, Katniss Everdeen sponsors Peeta Mellark during the 74th Hunger Games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temporary truths

Katniss' mother wants her to cut her hair just like Johanna Mason.  _It would give you that edge_ , she says,  _and those spikes...they'd make you look less_ soft _, you know? Maybe you could catch_ someone's _attention._

Like everyone else, her mother thinks that the only problem with Katniss is, well,  _Katniss._ And her braid, and her long silences, her scowls, her pride, her body, which she refuses to alter.  _It's not that she's snobby,_ her mother tells her friends when she thinks Katniss can't hear,  _she's just...oblivious._

_What about those lips, darling?,_ her mother suggests with a glimpse of hope,  _Just a little, you know, fix._ Katniss smiles tiredly, and she frowns upon her image in the mirror,  _It's not like I have to meet Finnick Odair, mom._

Nothing can make you look pretty when even your own mother thinks you're hideous.

 

Katniss can't exactly pinpoint the moment when she got left behind, but it had undoubtedly happened while she was looking in a different direction than everybody else. One day, they are running in the school playground playing  _Hunger Games,_ and next thing she knows, her best childhood friend has her nipples tipped with gold and her breasts sparkled with shimmering glitter. Katniss hadn't even realized they were supposed to be growing breasts, at that point – in fact, she stayed ridiculously behind in that department, too, and her mother always insists that she stuffs her bra, before dragging her to parties where nobody talks to her – not that she minds. She has learned over the years that many other things hurt a lot more than having people ignore you, so she stays quiet and unnoticed in a corner, with her untidy braid and plain clothes, sipping her brightly-coloured drink.

She knows some of the girls her age whisper nasty things about her behind her back, glancing at her with horrified expressions, and she'd like to scream at them that she has just never  _learned_ how to be so effortlessly  _shining_ and chatty and giggling like they all are and it's not her fault she doesn't  _catch_ it, is it? She just can't imagine her skin coloured blue or her nails sharpened like claws or her tongue split in two; plus, she would be ugly anyway, wouldn't she? These girls say that, too.

Katniss reckons she should feel like dying when, during the car ride returning home from one of those nameless hosts' parties, her mother shouts angrily that she looks like she comes from  _District twelve,_ because that's  _extremely_ offensive to say to a Capitol citizen, but she's way past the point of caring anymore, and she just stares outside the car window, shutting out her mother's high-pitched voice.

 

Katniss has watched the Games since she was old enough to remember, but she's never really paid attention, or placed bets. She roots for her favourite tributes, that's for sure, but it's a sort of detached, contained affection, because she always chooses the wrong ones and there's really no point in sponsoring someone who is going to end up getting killed directly in front of the Cornucopia or slaughtered a few hours later, is there? She remembers their names, though, and their dresses for their interviews, and how their eyes shimmer with fear during the countdown.

Shame burns hot and bright through her during the Games of her sixteenth birthday: the boy from 7 grins at the camera after killing an innocent, screeching little girl (her name was Tam and she had a twin back home), and Katniss feels herself getting sticky in all the wrong places. She tries to shift discretely on the couch, hoping no one notices her reddened cheeks and glassy eyes, but her mother tells her with a mischievous grin that she can  _have_  him, if he wins, as an early birthday gift, or so she puts it, and Katniss is really,  _really_  tempted to say yes, because everyone knows that Victors belong to anyone who's willing to pay enough for them and some days Finnick Odair and his tongue are all her "friends" can talk about at parties, but then she remembers the boy from 7's strong hands tied around that helpless, pale throat and, knowing well that she's disappointing her mother  _again_ , gulps saying  _No, thanks._

That night, Katniss realizes how much Tam had resembled Prim (when she hadn't yet dyed her eyebrows and lashes flamingo pink and begun going out with the Head Gamemaker's son, of course) and she hates herself even more than usual, biting her knuckles to keep from crying.

The guilt doesn't stop her from touching herself furiously, though.

(It turns out, Katniss really  _does_  meet Finnick Odair at a party. He doesn't notice her, of course, but he's escorting her friend Cilla, copper hair dyed just to match her lover's flowing down her back to her surgically perfected ass, who apparently can't wait to introduce him to everyone she knows.

Katniss wouldn't normally mind someone looking at her, but she can't help her face from burning with shame when, as Finnick's eyes roam over her petite and plain frame, Cilla snorts at her in disgusts. He takes Katniss' hand and places a gentle kiss on it, though, and everyone envies her for the rest of the night.

Many people say he has done that out of pity for the poor girl who would otherwise be ignored by everyone. What a gentleman.)

 

The 74th Annual Hunger Games change everything.

Katniss is watching the Reaping with her family and she's already starting to drift off, because she knows the outer Districts are always the most boring ones – a lot of screaming and crying and swearing and _shouldn't they just be happy they got the chance to be in the Games?_ Plus, Prim has promised to keep her updated about the most promising Tributes since she's become so  _enthusiastic_ about the Games (she used to have nightmares everytime a Tribute was killed, before meeting Seneca Crane's son), so Katniss lets her eyelids flutter close without a worry in the world.

Prim shakes her awake just in time to see the Reaping in 12: a dull, wailing, bone - thin girl is chosen and then,  _then,_ the golden boy walks up the stage. He's crying, yet he holds his chin up and proud, unafraid to show himself to the crowd: all he needs to do is to look directly at the camera with those blue eyes of his for one split moment and Katniss' head spins violently like she needs more air, and maybe she does.

She's holding her breath and all she can see is golden,  _golden_ in his hair and milk on his skin.

Nobody understands her obsession with Peeta Mellark. He comes from District 12, he's just a stocky, broad – shouldered boy who may be good at tossing flour around, but what else? He doesn't have it, that wicked ability to detach himself from everyone and everything, that ability you need to kill all your fellow Tributes without wanting to peel the skin from your body right after.

He's  _good_ , that one, and he's gentle and giving and oh so  _kind,_ always chatting up the useless ones, always comforting the hysterical little girls who aren't even strong enough to lift a sword, let alone actually _use_  it, always joking around with the boys who are too young to even stand a chance to come out of the Bloodbath alive. He has his way with words and shines brightly during his interview, but nothing else. Nobody is willing to bet on him, when there are more handsome, more  _deathly_ Careers to be admired and sponsored.

Nobody sees the gold in his eyelashes or the way his smiles play the crowd.

Nobody sees what she can see.

(People say she's gone mad exactly like her mother did when her father died.)

She sponsors him as hard as she can. She spends all her pocket money to send him water, food, everything he needs, and desperation hits her hard when she realizes her efforts are not enough to keep him alive, because he is not even  _trying._ He allies with the Careers, surprisingly, and he seems to be fine, at first – all of them are impressed when he manages to break the neck of the boy from 6 – but then it becomes clear to viewers he's trying to protect someone who shouldn't even be  _alive_  three days in the Games: Prim gasps and some girls even cry, when he finds her crawled up in a old oak tree while looking for food; he could easily kill her, since she looks starved and exhausted, but he just brings his three middle fingers to his mouth and kisses them, then holding them out to her. She stares at him for a long, tense moment before doing the same.

While trying to actually chew the little food Peeta hands her instead of choking on it, she explains that her name is Rue, she comes from District 11 and she would gladly take him as an ally, if he insists.

The flying girl follows the pack from a distance, hidden on thick branches and behind leaves, and she's so tiny that the wind is enough to muffle the sound of her footsteps. She whistles with the mockingjays, sometimes, at night, and Peeta smile tiredly and faintly at the four – note tune, because that means she's still alive and maybe  _she can win the Games, can't she?_.

At the beginning, Katniss had thought it was just a noble gesture on his part, trying to save her, to  _keep_  her, but then she had realized he is probably doing all that because he'd go insane if they killed her, too. She likes to think she  _knows_  him, at this point.

(She hugs her pillow at night and cries over it, praying that he comes out of the Arena alive.

She pretends it's him and he's grateful for her gifts and he tells her she's the most beautiful,  _beautiful_  girl in the Capitol and he loves her so  _much_  and she pretends he's not too damaged to let his hand roam under her underwear.

Sometimes she incoherently hopes that he comes out of the Arena alive just so he can listen to his name rolling off her tongue as she comes).

 

During her interview, Rue had said to Caesar Flickermann that she was hard to catch, and that had proved to be very,  _very_  true – despite being aware of her presence, even Peeta finds it hard to spot her, and his mind irrationally suggests that she is able turn into a bird when no one is looking - but sometimes the trees and their fronds can cheat, too.

The Careers are pretty startled when she falls down right in front of them.

Her leg is bent at a strange angle and Peeta's face falls in horror as they both realize she cannot take flight this time. She doesn't betray him, though, and she turns her face away from him so he can't see the pain flash her features when the first knife slashes through the soft skin of her arm.

He can't move nor breathe and he feels five all over again, when his father wasn't home and his mother smacked the side of his head  _hard_ with her rolling pin and then laughed as he tried to get up to his feet again.

By the time they're finished, Rue's body is dismembered and violated, Peeta has puked at least twice - he thinks he must have fainted at some point, because he has memories of them doing horrible, terrible things to her behind his eyelids, but he can't quite place them in time or space – and Cato from District 2 is calling him a pussy.

Peeta lets them walk away first, pretending to be in need of some space and air –  _pussy pussy pussy_ _why haven't we killed him yet_ -, then picks up a flower and braids it in Rue's hair.

(The Gamemakers don't show the footage in which he salutes her just like he did the first time he had met her).

 

Before entering the Arena, he had sworn to himself that they would never change him, that he wouldn't be just another piece in their Games, but, after seeing Rue die, something snaps inside him just like the dry branches do beneath his feet, and all of a sudden he's not too sure he feels like Peeta Mellark anymore. He just feels like Male, District 12, who's going to win the 74th Annual Hunger Games two days later by slashing his last three remaining opponents’ throats – Male from 2 and 11, Female from 5 - with the knife he's currently holding. They scream a lot and they fight back  and he wakes up in the hovercraft with bruises and cuts and scratches he doesn't remember getting – just that horrible, gurgling sound and memories of science classes: _the jugular veins can be felt on either side of the neck…_ \- , but at the end of it he's just glad it's over.

His prep team tells him that many people were upset by his Victory: he has made a mess with the blood, and his gritted teeth and distant eyes didn't look very good on camera.

(His mother used to tell him that sometimes you have to do bad things in order to prevent yourself from doing worse. He realizes now he couldn't do much worse than this.)

 

_He’s safe he’s safe he’s safe now HE’S WON_

Once he’s crowned Victor, it seems like all that Capitol people want to do is celebrate - him, with him, for him, they don’t care and he doesn’t either. He breezes through endless parties without battling an eyelash, high on something his stylist spills in his drink every morning, and he drinks it as soon as he wakes up. He’s seen her doing it, but he has never asked her if this is for his benefit or theirs.

He’s charming – he dances and laughs and drinks and sweeps ladies off their feet, promising and tantalizing whispers at his ears, but he brushes them off with a smile that’s all perfection, mirth and teeth that are too white even for Capitol’s standards. They touch him all the time, women and men alike, lingering brushes as to reassure themselves that he’s real and meanwhile _different_ from the person they’ve all watched ruthlessly kill other people; he lets them do it and flashes them smiles and winks and praising words.

He doesn’t even wish he were somewhere else, because really, where would he even go?

 

Katniss actually puts effort into getting ready for the party: she braids her hair to make it fall lusciously on her shoulder and lets Prim coat her eyelids with a thick, powdery black eye shadow, so that the little glitter makes her gray eyes shimmer like silver in a low light.  She will still feel shabby and ugly once there, but she hopes Peeta won’t notice, or maybe won’t even mind it: she’s her main sponsor, after all, so she knows he wouldn’t dare make fun of her in front of everyone, at least.

(She’s been dreaming about this moment for more than a week. She’s dreamt it all: him rejecting her, them having sex on the refreshment table or making out in a corner, but especially and worst of all, people saying she’s just horrible, hideous, and Peeta agreeing with them. )

She hasn’t dreamt, she hasn’t been prepared for his liquid, piercingly blue eyes staring at her like he’s already seen her too many times.  

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This story is a WIP I've been writing on and off for about a year - sloth rate, I know. Feedback would be much appreciated, as to understand whether this is worth continuing or not (it may take a while for a new chapter, anyway, because med school). Also, English is not my first language - so sorry in advance for any possible mistake! - and I'm in desperate need for a beta, if any of you dares to try and bear with me :)   
> Hope you enjoyed it!


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